


A Heart of Glass and a Mind of Steel

by Lefauxlucifer



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night (Visual Novel), Fate/stay night - All Media Types, Mesopotamian Mythology, Sumerian Mythology
Genre: An Gal Tā Kigal Shē, Angst with a Happy Ending, ENKIDU WHY DID YOU DIE ON ME, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Going to Hell, Ishbae and not IshRin, Ishtar should get some love ya' know?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-07 19:59:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10368306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lefauxlucifer/pseuds/Lefauxlucifer
Summary: Ishtar and Gilgamesh.Two shattered remnants of a whole.A certain arrogant, High-Minded, God-Hating, Hedonistic King pursues every form of happiness imaginable, drifting from one to the next without pause. Plagued by constant self-doubt, will his vehemence hinder his capacity to forgive, or will he reach the truest form of joy?A certain chocolate-haired, lavender-eyed Queen of Heavens is burdened by her regret. Will she allow her childish decisions of the past to outweigh her one chance at happiness with the only man she could ever love, or will her pride yet become her downfall?Lapses of time will be indicated by a '*****'.Told in omniscient 3rd-person with touches of insanity.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to @HeavenessInanna of the #FateRP community on Twitter, who seems to share an intimate affinity with the Queen of Heavens herself.

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ Oɴᴇ:Ｃｒｙｓｔａｌ Ｌｉｏｎ  


It was a crisp morning in the summer months, and the air was perfectly humid enough―without the rage of two individuals in particular to heat it even further.

A golden-haired man, clad in armor to match, plays frivolously with the chocolate hair of a girl he towers easily over. She is older in reality, but due to her full divinity, she ages far slower than he has, causing her to be quite shorter than him.

She appears childish to him because of it, though by their actions, it is hard to tell exactly who is more immature.

Her locks swish and whip about as she shakes her head furiously, trying to get him to treat her normally, at the very least; she is a goddess, so he should handle her like no less than a human.

“Arrogant King of Uruk! Accept my divine love and apologize for your insolence at once!” spouted the words scathingly, thoughtlessly, from the goddess Ishtar’s mouth.

She was infuriated, enraged that he rejected her. She had never been rejected before, and it was an anguish she did not particularly care for. To have Gilgamesh be her first true love and cast her off in such a manner crushed her heart, but she glued the pieces together hastily and assaulted him, to see if such an uncivilized manner could breach the barbaric King’s dense skull.

He insulted her time and time again before he rejected her outright, and she supposed that if anything, acting like he had would convince him to see her as an equal, begin to consider her worthy of his love.

But Gilgamesh was far too proud to even look Ishtar in the eye as he carelessly, heartlessly threw words as if they were blades.

“Accept you? A vile witch? A servant wench unworthy of her title? How dare you, a mere mongrel, command the King of this World?” Gilgamesh inquired belittlingly, every bit as conceited as her―if not more.

She was Heaven’s Queen, a higher authority than him. Technically, she could issue a divine ordinance for his love, and he would have to comply, or else.

Or else she would issue a second divine ordinance. And a third. And a fourth. Until papers had cluttered Gilgamesh’s castle to the point where he was forced to exit ‘t.

He treated her as a child because she was of higher birth than him, however. He could not stand the conception of anyone being better, in any way, than he was. The great King Gilgamesh would simply dismiss the opinion of those individuals as no better than the mongrels he presided over. Though…Gilgamesh would seize Ishtar’s company in a heartbeat over having to endure these mongrels.

As she heard his frigid, piercing, and strident words, tears fell from the eyes of Heaven, and Ishtar left in a huff. Nothing good would come of it to either of them, would it?

No, it would not.

Without a second thought, Ishtar begged her father Anu, pleaded with him to unleash the Bull of Heaven upon the world -Gilgamesh’s World- so the egotistical King’s Kingdom would rival her heart in devastation.

Days and nights passed, blade fell against beast, and the Bull fell to the ground, defeated. There was cause for joy among the people of Uruk, but a slight sorrow tainted the victory. In all his splendor, Gilgamesh had been completely and utterly powerless to stop Enkidu, his most beloved friend, from leaving him.

The Gate of Babylon, Ea, a sword that could rip apart the world, his own status as World-King Gilgamesh, two-thirds divine and one third human, could do nothing to hinder his beloved friend’s death.

And it was all at the hands of Ishtar. Had she never unleashed that stupid Bull of Heaven, Enkidu would be alive and well, with him and the others to celebrate their golden triumph over the gods themselves.

But he wasn’t, and Gilgamesh sipped his wine that day not for enjoyment, but to lull himself into the past, into a sense of false security and happiness, into the times when the viridescent man was around him, to chastise and scold his actions, yes, but also to support and guide him as best he could.

There was a first for everything, or so it seemed. The first friend, the first sword-swing, the first kill, the first offence against a higher power.

But what Gilgamesh had not counted on was there being a first loss.

And in that moment, he understood how fragile his friendship with Enkidu had truly been, how they could have lost each other at any time. He realized just how incapable he was, even after he had grown so strong.

In that moment, he knew exactly what Ishtar felt like, to bare her heart and soul to a man who would only, time and time again, deny her affections and ravage her being.

*****

She had come for him again, this time, in the center of his Kingdom. The flowers were in full bloom, it was spring, yet not one of them could rival Ishtar’s beauty. There was a stunning pavilion in Uruk, where the sights of the entire Kingdom could be seen easily from if one was adept enough in the magic arts. Ishtar was capable of great illusion, trickery, among others, but those were the two that Gilgamesh focused on the most.

For a King who presided over all the world, he sure kept a limited and narrow perspective, did he not?

A year and a day, she waited for him, or so it felt like. In true reality, it was not ten minutes from the first light of dawn when she had arrived, but to her, every waking second without him pained her endlessly. Time slowed when he was not present, without requiring a drop of mana from her.

She had eagerly approached him, with open, welcoming arms that illustrated well she was not here to harm him, but merely to fulfill a desire of hers.

He glances at her callously, frigidly, and steps aside from her path so they do not touch. His message is quite clearly communicated: “We will never be.”

What bothered him most about the nature of their relationship -if it could even be called that- was not that she would not return to him, like a boomerang to its thrower. No, what concerned him the most was that she would, inevitably, leave him.

This had occurred for quite a while between the two of them, Ishtar would proclaim her love for the golden-haired man, hurt him in some way, and no matter how trivial, Gilgamesh would take it personally. Sometimes too personally, and try to hurt her back.

Gilgamesh’s tongue was perhaps the only known thing sharper than his blades.

*****

A cloaked figure waits upon the exterior of Gilgamesh’s chambers, holding a precious lion, carved beautifully out of glass. It is the first of its kind, a sculpture crafted by the goddess herself, through a bit of fancy swordplay. Ishtar had cut herself while making it easily a thousand times over, but if her love appreciated it, she would have made a dozen more that day itself.

She hears a hushed sound emanating from the room, and she does not, for the life of her, want to see the spectacle that lurks inside.

But she must. She knows that she will hurt herself by opening the door, but by loving Gilgamesh, she has consented to being hurt as many times as he pleases.

The door is opened a crack, and she sees chains hanging everywhere around the room, a crimson trail upon the sheets of the bed. A virgin, no doubt, but when her eyes land upon her love and the other woman, her heart sinks to a low she did not think possible, and a mix of emotions overwhelms her, causing the glass lion to fall from her hands and crash violently upon the floor.

Luckily, the girl inside screams as she does this, but Gilgamesh is likely too engrossed to notice even if the girl had not.

She swears that she will make it out of Babylon without crying. She will not allow herself, the proud and vain Ishtar, to stoop to a level beneath her status.

But Gilgamesh has.

As she rests upon her throne in Heaven, her head falls too easily to her hands and tears drip, like the icicles in the winter months when they reach spring and have just started to melt endlessly.

Her love has lowered himself to performing such a sacred act with anyone, anyone at all as long as he is entertained by it. He has become an uncivilized fiend, a barbarian, and nothing like who she remembers him to be.

What brings a twinge of annoyance to her visage is not that Gilgamesh was doing such a thing, but that he was Gilgamesh.

He was a man, created for the sole purpose of overseeing this world and becoming the connection between Heaven and Earth.

He had far too much promise, far too much potential, to lower himself to such standards.

While the goddess Ishtar could withstand vast amounts of physical pain -she /was/ protected by Heavenly enchantments and was endowed with greater strength than most, she was still fragile upon the inside.

Gilgamesh pained her by giving himself, his love -if his twisted demonic acts could be called that- to anyone, anyone but her. She came to the conclusion that she would fall to this Gilgamesh of hers, if necessary, that she would become who he wanted her to be if it let her get close enough to change him, change him back to who he was.

She would allow herself to fall for one man after another, and let them bed her as they desired, but every man she had come to love had broken her more than she had broken him.  
Though a goddess of beauty and love, fertility, and childbirth, she was also a goddess of compassion, and in the time that she was not infuriated, she tried with all her heart to be the best possible human being she could be. The men who came to her had looked not for her personality, however, but merely for her figure.

And how could they not?

Even the King of Heroes thought in the deepest recesses of his mind that it would be a much more pleasing sight to have the real Ishtar by his side than some other woman, and that seeing a mere man be kissed by a mere woman was far better than Ishtar, in all her glory, performing such an act to anyone but him.

Gilgamesh, however, would never admit such a thing to the arrogant Queen of Heaven. Such a thing would only cause her arrogance to flourish.

However easy on the eyes the chocolate-haired, lavender-eyed beauty was, she did not desire to be wanted for just looks alone.

But all the men who lusted after her did just that. And she let them. How could she not? She was a child when it began, when Gilgamesh -the one man who saw something other than her body, for once- scorned her love.

Like the crystal lion, her heart was shattered seemingly irreparably once more.

*****

Gilgamesh exits his bedchambers to find glass scattered about the entrance. It is beautiful glass, but broken, nonetheless. He finds a single strand of hair upon the floor, and though cleaning is not the King’s specialty, he decides to place the glass within his Gate and arrive at the knowledge compendium in the morn, to fix this mess into what it was.

For some odd reason, after he is done repairing it, he places it directly behind the chains of Heaven granted to him as a parting gift from his beloved friend. He knows its owner, and is aware of what the construction of such a figurine would require.

*****

The great Gilgamesh of Uruk walks through his Kingdom at night, after he has ‘performed the evening rites’ with a girl of his choosing. He gazes at the river before sitting at its bank, finding another man already there. The river is a beautiful blue, not unlike the night hue that Ishtar creates when she is in town. The man is happy, oddly so, and Gilgamesh inquires as to why the night is so joyous.

He states simply that all his life, he has had but one wish: to lie with the goddess Ishtar.

And that in the afternoon, she saw fit to grant it.

A rage descends upon the World-King, a rage that cannot merely be quelled by drink. She is a proud goddess, repulsive, fickle, but she is not one to sleep around.

He thought better of her than to do such things, and he simply returns to his private chambers to rest.

But as his form graces the freshly-blood-soaked sheets, he can’t help wondering if he thought better of himself as well. . .

He is still furious, mad beyond belief that Ishtar would carelessly give her heart to so many.

Gilgamesh himself only laid with so many because none were worthy to lay with him more than once. A girl worthy of the King of All Heroes would have to think herself perfect, walk as if she owned the world. Her smile would be the crescent moon, and her eyes the stars. She would be the perfect blend of fire and ice, entrancing Gilgamesh in a wonderful mystique that required not an ounce of magic.

The great King could think of a woman that fit his description, could challenge him and retain his interest.

He wasn’t about to admit that to himself, however.

But behind each mask of anger lies sorrow and regret.

*****

“I will never love you, Queen of Heaven. No matter what you do, no matter what you say, I will never forgive what you have done, nor will I forget.”

Ishtar has made her plea for the day.

Tomorrow is a new dawn, however.

That is what she tells herself. That is what she has told herself for thousands of years since that fateful day, that fateful choice.

 

To err is human, to forgive divine. Gilgamesh was only two-thirds divine, and even a small part of Ishtar would concur that deciding to strip the King of his moral compass and let him fall into depravity was not a wise choice.

But forget? Forget what? The past?

Gilgamesh’s own past was riddled with illegitimate children, affairs with the maids of Babylon, hell, every fair maiden in Babylon had spent a night with the King at one point or another, and limped for a minimum of three days afterward. The Hero-King should have no right to judge a goddess based on her past when his own was quite literally equivalent, right down to the callous way they let their ‘lovers’ go.

The past, yes, it existed. But was Gilgamesh truly correct in judging her based on it?

After all, had he ever bothered to stop and think regarding why she had accepted so many men and he so many women?

It was simple, clear as the first light of day.

Ishtar had realized it long ago. Gilgamesh was still lost in his naivety.

Love was no triviality, but a necessity for human beings and gods alike, that they required in some form. Perhaps familial, or romantic, or even a friendship, but there would come inevitably a certain age when… carnal desires would overcome them and romance would take center stage in their minds. One could only catch the fish in the ocean they fished in; Gilgamesh and Ishtar fished in different oceans, and both could only love their catches, if they could really be called catches. Neither one had met the other until they endured several fruitless affairs, and developed a past neither was proud of.

They had both taken past lovers out of a childish desire for amusement, and both were now old enough to see the true meaning of love. Yet because he refused her, the two of them could not yet be, and both suffered the agony of another’s company.

Gilgamesh, however, saw it fit to bring such hypocrisy into their interactions, and then claim that she was the hypocrite. The great King of Heroes had referred to the past she developed, while a young girl struggled to walk through the garden of Babylon, indubitably coming from the King’s private bedchambers.

What separated her from him, however, was her insistence to her ideals. She would behave civilly to the King, regardless of how cruelly, horrifically he treated her. She was not about to point to his past and tarnish his reputation; she had merely sought, for ten thousand years, to at least make him show her the same respect she had for him.

But Goldie Locks just had to take everything as a goddamn joke, didn’t he?

It infuriated her to no end that he wasn’t even willing to listen to her pleas, of all things. She had, after lengthy deliberation, changed. She had become a better, more caring individual, not that Gilgamesh cared.

Every other being had been born whole and had remained so, but both the King of Heroes and the Queen of Heavens were fractions of full beings, incomplete without the other.

Gilgamesh often wondered why he felt so . . . content during their interactions but so drained after insulting Ishtar.

He hated her. He. Hated. Her.

With every fiber of his being. There were no exceptions to that rule.

Then why, why did he allow her to keep coming back. Why did he let her speak with him? Why did he offer her his best wine and instigate her into further conversation?

Oh, dear Enkidu, he easily knew why. He knew well why he did all of those things. But he would never accept it. It was impossible to do such a thing.

To give her a chance, to listen to her, was heresy, blasphemy, a betrayal to his dearest friend’s memory.

But he was the one man in all the world who could truly love her, and she was the only woman who could truly love him. They understood each other so perfectly, bickered so frequently, fought so hard the earth tore viciously in two, only because they couldn’t stand… the inevitability of being apart.

They tried desperately to spite the other into submission, to fight endlessly so neither would have to leave. Because neither of them wanted to leave.

However, in all their quarrels, that had never once been said.

Each of them wanted only a clean slate, a fresh start. Gilgamesh wanted to love and be loved, just as Ishtar had for the past ten thousand years. Yet neither was humble enough to ask the other for it.

【E】【n】【d】σƒ ᴘᴀʀᴛ 『1』


	2. Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gilgamesh and Ishtar rendez-vous unwillingly, patience is tested, wrongs are righted, and the words violet and chocolate are overused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedication: To @HeavenessInanna, a brilliant writer and RP-er who has made Gilgamesh dance to her tunes since day 1. May the stars shine ever favorably upon you and your ships, and may the Heavens gaze in admiration at your undeniable talent with the ink and quill.

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ Tᴡᴏ: Ｂｒｅａｋｉｎｇ Ｐｏｉｎｔ

Ishtar does not come. It has been three days since her last confession, and Gilgamesh is uneasy. He does not say it aloud, but he is concerned about the goddess. There are those in this world who would try to physically hurt her.

And though he acts callously towards her, it is his right to do so, no one else’s. Only he can speak ill of Ishtar, because she knows all-too-well, by now, at least, that he cares deeply for her. She believes in her words, the ones she says to him so often, and he has allowed himself to attain a begrudging respect for her, if not love.

He is at breakfast, with his commanders, eating heartily and laughing boisterously. Out of the corner of his ear, he hears a voice mutter, “So the witch hasn’t cried to our King since. . . He is at last free of her. Such a vile being shouldn’t taint-”

The voice is cut off by a calm yet enraged Gilgamesh, who is holding the man belonging to it by a lock of hair upon his head. Just low enough for one to hear, Gilgamesh mutters, “If you have any respect for who I am or what I’ve done, you and your family will abscond this Kingdom with everything you treasure by the time the sun strikes Her temple.”

When the sun does strike Her temple, the man is no more, as if he never was, and a decree has been issued to utter nothing of Gilgamesh’s act, upon pain of death. Though Gilgamesh usually showed leniency and creativity with punishments, offences against the goddess Ishtar had always been treated seriously, and how he dealt with the offenders was not to be stated. If the goddess heard of it, -she had most definitely seen it occur- she would never let it go. A word against Ishtar, if caught, would make he who uttered it long for something as sweet as pain.

*****

Her thighs ache and her knees are moments away from giving out. At last, she has reached the peak of the mountain.

She reaches forth, and a violet circle forms, from which she pulls out a simple herb, a ruby in the shape of a rose, a glass-like orb, and a lock of verdant hair.

Approaching a figure, she holds the items out, tilting her head down to convey that although she is the Queen of Heavens, she shall ask a favor of Aruru rather than demand it.

The goddess of creation herself inspects the items, slightly irritated that a child, a brat like her has been crowned Queen.

But Aruru is not without reason. She is one to restore the world to order, not plunge it into chaos, and Ishtar’s quest to the edges of creation itself to acquire these items was no less than impressive. Lesser things could easily have been used, of course. But these were what caused the original to form. And the original is what she needs to form.

Ishtar has tried to be benevolent, caring, and a true mother goddess. But it has all fallen flat to Gilgamesh.

Why? Because Gilgamesh is too damn stubborn to get over her careless mistake, her one lapse in judgement.

So she has decided, finally, that she will endure this no more. Perhaps, if she brings him this gift of hers, he will no longer be compelled to deceive both him and herself that he does not feel what she does.

Peradventure, a small part of Gilgamesh feels that if he had not been so arrogant and challenged the goddess, Enkidu would still be around.

Perhaps a piece of Gilgamesh thinks that trying anything with her would only defile his dearest friend’s memory.

This time, if she falls, the arrogant Urukian King will fall with her. She will take the cursed object of her affection with her and burn with him. But with him, nonetheless.

*****

Gilgamesh grows bored, irritable, and a girl has not entered the palace in a month. It has been a month and three days since Ishtar’s last talk with him. A month and three days since the chocolate-haired, lavender-eyed beauty has visited.

Not a call, nor a card, nor a note. Nothing. He is evidently worth nothing to her, for her to simply up and leave like that.

But that realization gnaws away at his very soul as it begs the question: did he want to be worth more than nothing to her?

Was she worth more than nothing to him?

In the time that he had to himself, he began to wonder just what Ishtar was to him. Not a mere acquaintance, and not a friend either. Not a fling, no, he had not once bedded her and thrown her away like his playthings. He would touch her, toy with her, try to incite emotion in any way possible, but defile her?

It was something he never dreamed of doing.

Gilgamesh, at least now, saw Ishtar as an equal, someone worthy of his defense. An insult to her was an insult to the King of All Heroes.

But he found himself wishing for that same respect from her.

Yes, he always spoke so belittlingly to her, but she had not once acknowledged her folly. Never had she even apologized for her transgression upon his beloved friend.

Enkidu meant the world itself to Gilgamesh, and Ishtar had callously taken it away. She was too intelligent to not know that, so he assumed she merely overlooked it due to her own arrogance. For one who claimed he was a man after her own heart, she had not once given that heart sincerely for him to take. The first time, it had been an order, the second, third, and umpteenth had all been a resignation to request it of him.

Perhaps if she had given him a heartfelt confession, he would consider it -but not without it preceded by an apology.

The King rests upon his throne, musing precariously, careful to veil his deception from himself as well as the world.

But the dullness of the room is broken, shattered by a flash of iridescent, illustrious, and radiant golden light.

It is unmistakable.

*****

Ishtar has returned, as she always has, and this time, she looks different. Instead of her words being worn, she is. Physically, she looks to be in no condition to even walk upon the ground, yet she steps closer and closer to her love with the same gait she has always strode with.

It is sheer resolve that keeps her from fainting. It has been a year and three days since she has seen him, a year and three days since she has gone to Heaven and replenished her strength.

Even the Queen of Heavens is not omnipotent, and she knows that now.

She only wishes Gilgamesh, too, would realize the same.

She presses her foot into the base of his throne, looking straight into his eyes. It is symbolic, in a sense. As she admits her affection, she will stand at the edge of the King’s Kingdom, and make him see eye-to-eye with her.

She sighs coldly, but this seems to hurt her more than it hurts Gilgamesh.

“I can’t seem to figure it out. This bush has been a long, hellfire of a maze that I can’t escape, but optimism is something I still hold within my prideful heart. My destination can be chosen. Not by me, no, but by others looking for my good fortune. Maybe before, my love for you was young and tame, but now it is bursting within me. I have been kind to love, but this damnable emotion has betrayed me! All I do is bind love, bless Wars, grant wisdom, gift children. I am a /mother goddess/ yet here I am, unable to do anything for myself as I do upon to others! Why has my father– the supreme deity, granted me my power and title–why has he made me terrifying throughout heaven without granting me the power to use these powers selfishly for once?! It’s almost laughable. . .

You have not once acknowledged the worth of my speech, Gilgamesh, but I have only ever tried to make them worthy. I’d thought you had at least enough respect for what I’ve done for your Kingdom to listen to me. 

You truly are the most conceited, sorry, self-centered man I’ve ever met, but I shall repeat myself once more. Have you any manliness within you, you will listen again, and acknowledge these six words.

I am in love with you,”

Her words were so full of fury that you’d think they were in spite, but they were as true and heartfelt as she’d ever spoke.

“Before you begin with your idiocy, -and you know full well that it is, Goldie Locks- let me inform you that my heart is already yours. You may break it in however many ways that you please, but I will pick up the parts and paste it back together.

There is no pain, no sorrow, no agony that I am not willing to endure if it is by your side.

Although I beg you. . . refrain from tearing it apart. It’s a pain to find all of the pieces, but then again, it’s a bigger pain not to have you.”

I call myself intelligent, and I believe I still hold my wisdom because love is my domain and one who loves would do /anything/ for whom they love. I have waited 10,000 years, what’s a few more, My beloved? Do your worst because it cannot compare to what I already feel. Bring forth the chains of Heaven, the ghastly plights of war. I have scoured the universe, just to arrive back here. Just to realize just how far I will go for you. . . Gilgamesh.”

As she says his name, she cups both of his cheeks in her hands and presses her lips softly to his. It is gentle, chaste, and Gilgamesh does not resist, surprisingly. In fact, he does nothing until she pulls away from him.

But when she pulls away from him, he rips her off him and casts her to the ground. Still engulfed by denial and loyalty, he glares arrogantly at the Queen of Heavens.

“You dare suggest, Ishtar, that I, of all people, should love you?

Love is a sacred trust, goddess, and how could I possibly trust you when you destroyed the one closest to me? There is nothing but hatred for you in my heart, nor will there ever be anything else. To accept your confession is a preposterous act.

Perhaps if you apologized for it, I might think to forgive you. But you don’t even realize how much you’ve hurt me, have you?”

Something seems to have found a place in the King of Heroes’s eye, as he begins blinking rapidly.

“If you thought that today would be your day, then you are every bit the childish, arrogant little brat you’ve always been. Why don’t you just slither back to Anu like the snake you are and beg him to let loose another creature of his?”

Ishtar slowly begins to pick herself up from the ground that Gilgamesh has forced her to lie upon.

“I automatically accepted that mere words would only give you false hope until I failed to prove it, if I failed to prove it. The words themselves are meaningless. There was no point in uttering a mere ‘I’m sorry” to you, Gilgamesh, because it meant nothing. Literally nothing.

I do not hope to deceive you one bit, and if I have, I cannot change my past. But why is it, Gilgamesh, that you cling to the past like a newborn to its mother?

The King of Heroes deserves more than simple pretty words from his beloved.”

And with that, tears cascade down Ishtar’s visage relentlessly as she uses the last traces of her mana to open a glittering violet gateway that a viridescent-haired man steps out of. Ishtar’s exhausted form  
immediately falls to the floor, and Gilgamesh’s heart sinks to his toes as he stands up from his splendid golden throne and immediately recognizes the mysterious figure that has joined the two of them.

Gilgamesh does not blink any longer, and a tear plinks down upon his perfect flooring.

It is not for Enkidu, but for Ishtar, for everything she has shown him and for everything he has tossed callously out the window. Enkidu awaits him with open arms, but the Hero-King steps past his cherished friend and takes residence beside the chocolate-haired, violet-eyed beauty, picking her up with ease and cradling her in his arms like he has dreamed of doing with the girl of his visions.

ѕнє ιѕ тнє ωσмαη тнαт ∂αη¢єѕ тняσυgн нιѕ ηιgнтмαяєѕ. вυт тнαт ∂σєѕ ησт мαкє нєя αηу ℓєѕѕ тнє gιяℓ σƒ нιѕ ∂яєαмѕ.

【E】【n】【d】σƒ ᴘᴀʀᴛ 『2』

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The confession Ishtar makes above is entirely due to the penmanship of @HeavenessInanna/Mac, not that it isn’t obvious. I could never write such passionate things. She, however, is quite adept at it and everything else.
> 
> I forgot to post this after two weeks' time was up, so consider chapter three a gift for next week. . . if I remember, that is.
> 
> I'll set a reminder on my phone, promise.
> 
> As with the last time, feel free to leave me comments, constructive criticism, whatever you feel like, or not to. And I'll catch you on the flip side, mongrels~
> 
> Draping properly-coloured ribbons over the house,
> 
> L.

**Author's Note:**

> To my knowledge, this is the sole IshGil piece in existence... Which is to say I haven't seen any more out there, nor would I mind any more out there at all. Currently, this is on its 5th part, and knowing me, I'll likely drag it out for far longer than that as well. Updates will be spontaneous, maybe monthly or bi-weekly at max. Housekeeping's taken care of. . . Feel free to leave me comments, constructive criticism, whatever you feel like, or not to. And I'll see you in a little while from now~
> 
> Seeking the location of the world's chai reserves,
> 
> L.


End file.
